Little Things That Kill
by Rebecca Munin
Summary: Ron's POV. A broken water main leads to a fistfight in a crowded hallway, detention, and violent shagging. RonDraco PWP SLASH


I squinted down the long, soggy corridor to Charms, mouth tugging downwards in a frown that was probably more comical than anything. "Are you sure threre's no other way?" I asked Harry, leaning past Hermione to look at him.

He shook his head, sighing, eyes scanning the Marauder's Map. "If we backtracked now and took a different route, we'd be twice as late."

"But Flitwick _loves_ yo-

"Not so much that he'd forgive Harry, or us for that matter, for missing half his class!" Hermione said, cutting me off and looking irritable.

I sighed, watching a gaggle of first years play in the spray of water from the recently broken water main that'd flooded the hall. (Herminoe, of course, ended their fun as soon as she noticed it.) "Man! Now my shoes'll get all... sloshy." I said, stepping foreword gingerly into the ankle-deep water. Harry laughed, replacing the Map, and Hermione rolled her eyes as we all continued our way down the corridor.

Hands in pockets, I scanned the hall for nothing in particular. With the exception of the water, the sights and sounds were the same as any other day: people gabbing, hanging out before class, elbowing through the throng of people, and so on. It was interesting to see that there were few of them I didn't actually recognize anymore. I hailed some of them, like Ginny's creepy little Ravenclaw friend, and a few others I knew form D.A., but for the most part I ignored the rest and continued on my way.

Eventually, I noticed a familiar pointed face, looking sour, pale hair glinting dully. Draco Malfoy had taken to wandering the halls alone this year, something that seemed to greatly unnerve Harry. Of course, Harry was becoming almost disturbingly interested in everything Malfoy did, so that really didn't mean much. I, on the other hand, didn't really give two shits anymore. My theory on the whole situation was that Crabbe and Goyle decided to sprout some brain cells and left their old boss to his own.

In a way, it made me pity the guy. Kind of. Not really.

The space between us and him had closed considerably by now; Malfoy was shuffling along to my left, head bent, frowning as though he were trying to remember the answer to some impossible question. I frowned as well, tilting my head to one side, suddenly wanting to figure out what the question was, and if it had relevance to anything outside of Hogwarts. Of course, with my mind on such intangible things, I'd stopped paying attention to where I was going and my foot slipped, kicking back behind me and sending me flying foreword.

Malfoy hardly even had time to look up as I careened into him, sending the smaller boy stumbling back a couple of steps. I righted myself and faced him.

He was furious, and overly so; Malfoy's face was twisted into a wide-eyed grimace, red gathering around his eyes and on his cheeks. He seemed to be sputtering something, almost choking on his words. Then, suddenly, the knuckles of his right fist were embedding themselves into my jaw. My head snapped back, and all sound seemed to stop except for the ringing in my ears.

Growling, I threw myself into him, knocking him from his feet and sending us both tumbling into the icy water. We landed with a slick thunk, and water immediately engulfed his face, filling his mouth and nose. I wanted to drown him, to pound him into a hundred and fifty pounds of raw meat; I pulled him up by the collar, intending to smack him around for a while, but instead I just forced him back under before he could fill his lungs with anything helpful.

Malfoy struggled from underneath me, bucking his hips, his hands trying to beat mine from around his throat. He actually managed to sink an elbow into my ribs, lucky little fuck, and I yelped, letting go. He bucked me off of him, gasping like a fish as soon as his face broke the surface; he kicked at me, foot only grazing my chest. I grabbed it and was about to pull him back under the water when someone grabbed the back of my robes and pulled me out of the fight.

It was bloody Filch. I tried to fight him off, but the bugger was stronger than he looked. I cast a glare across the corridor, and saw that Malfoy was having similar problems. Goody.

"Ron, you idiot!" This from Hermione. I looked around and realized that a crowd had formed to watch my little brawl, and that she and Harry were having difficulty getting through. "Calm down, or you'll only get into more trouble!"

Irritating as she was, she was right. Breathing hard, I forced myself to stop fighting. The sound of harsh laughter made me wheel around, however.

"Yah, that's it, Weasel! You listen to your little Mudblood bitch! God knows she's got more sense that you and your entire filthy family put together!" It was the same damn speech every time. Blah, blah, blah, Mudblood. Blah, blah, blah, filthy, Muggle-loving family. Blah, blah, blah, dumpy mum, nutter dad, blah, blah, blah.

You'd think by now the little shit would come up with something different. Oh, well.

I gnashed my teeth together and lunged. Unfortunately for me, I kept forgetting two things : A) the floor was still quite slippery, and B) Filch, although pure Squib, was still stronger than he looked. Grunting, the old guy caught me by the shirt, and pulled me back. I slipped again, and landed on my ass. Laughter echoed around me, and my face burned.

"You," said Filch, jowls jiggling disgustingly, grabbing me by my upper arm and dragging me to my feet. "An' you." He pointed at Malfoy. "Come with me."

"What!" He was incredulous. "I didn't do anything wrong! He tried to KILL ME!"

"Are you fucking kidding! YOU hit ME first!"

"I DON'T CARE WHO STARTED WHAT!" Bellowed the caretaker, his voice echoing up and down the hall. "The two of you'll be in detention 'til yeh look like me, if I have anythin' to do with it! Now, MOVE!"

I cast an irritated look to Harry and Hermione. "See you at dinner." I said, before Filch grabbed my arm again and dragged Malfoy and I off down the corridor to his office.

"Sixth years fightin', eh?" He growled at us, "That'll be a much harsher punishment since yeh should know better. Not to mention yer both prefects, aren't yeh?"

Neither of us responded, and, with a dark cackle, he started rambling on about the different punishments he could carry out. I wished he'd just shut up, and maybe let go of my arm so I could get the hell away from Malfoy. The little bitch. This entire thing was all his fault, and it looked like Filch was going to drag it out as long as he possibly could.

I swear to god, if I miss dinner because of this shit...

We arrived and Filch pitched us inside with all the gentleness of a drunk uncle with a bad temper. He opened his mouth, probably to talk some more about how he planned to string us up in the dungeons by our nose hairs, when the horribly loud sound of something heavy and made of glass crashing into something else came from outside. Ah, a glimmer of hope.

I could tell by Filch's face that he was torn between investigating the calamity and brainstorming about what painful detention he could give us. Eventually, the desire to get as many students into trouble as possible won out, and he heaved a sigh that sounded more like the wheezing noise Crookshanks made before puking up a hairball. He shook an arthritic finger at us. "You two stay here. Yer not off the hook."

With that he left, slamming the door shut. The git. I glared over at Malfoy, who was trying entirely too hard to look unruffled. "Whatever," I said. "Fuck this."

I crossed the room and jiggled the handle. It was locked. Duh. Not even Filch could be that stupid. I pulled my wand out and knelt down, sensing Malfoy's hard eyes on me as I did so.

"Alohamora!"

Silence. I waited a second, almost holding my breath, listening for any sign that the spell had worked; none came. I rose from my knees and jiggled the door handle again, hoping to god I was somehow mistaken. Of course, I had no such luck.

I sighed, pocketing my wand as Malfoy's spiteful laughter filled my ears. The corner of my mouth twitched downwards as the hot anger that'd been close to forgotten came bubbling back up again. I turned slightly, glaring at him from the corner of my eye. "Blow me."

"Yeah, don't tempt me," he scoffed, and I don't think I'd ever heard anyone be that obviously sarcastic. He tilted his head to one side, sneering, and continued. "Just because you're the Golden Boy's prime punk doesn't mean the rest of us are all that fucking interested."

I rounded on him, seething, my fists curling into tight little balls. "Shut UP," I said, voice raising. "Its _your _fault we're in this mess!"

Almost as though genuinely shocked, his eyebrows flew up in an expression that would've been funny in any other situation. "My fault! _You _bumped into _me_!"

Oh yeah, like I sent myself careening down the corridor on purpose. "You don't hit someone just for that! Normal people don't do that."

He drew himself up to the fullest extent of his height, face turned up towards mine, eyes wide and furious. Malfoy spoke slowly, every syllable grating on my nerves. "Don't talk down to me, Weasley, you son of a- "

Before he could finish the next stupid insult he'd been planning to throw at me, I buried my fist deep into his gut, almost smiling as I heard the satisfyingly desperate gasp for air. He coughed and sputtered, body apparently unable to supply him with the air he needed, doubling over and gripping the desk he'd been leaning against. I'd only just begun to draw my fist from its place in his stomach, when his foot collided with my fucking kneecap. Howling with rage, I grabbed him by the front of his robes and chucked him into the wall before slamming my fist across his face.

Malfoy spat blood onto my robes and lunged at me, but I threw myself into him, forcing him back against the wall and holding him there with one arm across his chest. He tucked his chin, mouth opening, and bit down onto my wrist, sharp little teeth digging into my skin. I screamed, tearing my arm from that dangerous mouth.

Breathing hard, I stared at him for half a moment. The blood, my blood, trailed down his chin and neck, giving color to that pale, hungry mouth. He watched me, eyes straining wide and wild, looking close to insane. I could feel the low growl building in my throat, stirring up deep-seeded hate and something that was, perhaps, even darker. I couldn't understand the impulse that was growing in my chest; couldn't fathom why my eyes refused to tear away from the curve of his bleeding lips. Malfoy was my exact opposite; a petulant, bigoted snob. I hated him with everything that I was.

Still, I could not seem to resist my own carnal inclinations.

I bent low and tore my teeth into that mouth, biting furiously at his tongue and lips while he tried to beat me away with one fist. I could taste the metallic tang of his blood, and I stopped gnawing for a second to lap it up, the darkest of wants beginning to replace my loathing.

I felt myself getting hard and harder, and I wanted more. I grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the wall on either side of his head, leaving only our blood-filled mouths to satisfy each other. The sensation was slick and sharp and warm, and it made things in low places throb, deliciously and painfully; made me give up any feeble attempt I had been planning to call this off, and slam my hips hungrily into his. Much to my surprise and satisfaction, I noticed a burning erection hard enough to rival my own.

Draco rolled his hips deeper into mine, the hard sensation of our cocks pressing so tightly together calling forth a deep, feral groan that rumbled from low in my chest. He ground his hot, wet crotch into me over and over and over, making me dizzy and frantic, making my breath come heavy and ragged. I suddenly stopped thinking.

I don't know exactly how, but I then found myself landing hard onto the desk. I was sitting half-up before Draco clambered his way on top of me, wrapping his legs around my waist and grinding that tight little ass of his over my throbbing dick, the stiffness that was his own digging its way into my stomach and serving only to make me harder. I watched him bend towards me through half-closed eyes, his mouth forming a seal over the crook of my neck, tearing open my skin with those damn little pointed teeth. I closed my eyes and reveled in the pain, my hands slowly gliding towards his ass as he licked, once again catlike, at the wound. He grabbed my shoulders, forcing himself down hard onto me, making my eyes roll back and my breath catch in a moan.

I'd seemed to have lost the ability to hear or see, only able to wrap myself up in every sensation; every scrape of nail; every little brush of skin. He clawed his way up my torso, balling his fists into my hair and forcing his lips against mine. I licked at the inner velvet lining of his mouth, the tang of blood still giving him flavor. I rocked my hips up, guiding his ass down to meet me; he growled, tongue still in my mouth, breathing my sharp exhalations.

I needed more of that skin. My hands found their way underneath his shirt, fingers digging and clawing, covering every inch of his back in my marks- but it wasn't even close to enough. I wanted to know every inch of him, to explore it, to claim it as my own. I wanted to get lost in every taste, every touch, every gratifying semblance.

Moreover, I wanted to stay there.

The pressure was building, tighter, tighter, bringing me closer to the edge. I hooked my fingers into his belt loops, pulling him closer around me, instinctively wanting to bring myself faster. But a small and distant part of me wondered whether the mad prelude, the hot pounding, the place where one truly does not care for anything save the immanent release, were the better of the two. It didn't matter, the world was closing in around me, focusing in on that one point.

And then even that was gone, lost in glorious release.

Draco came right after me, his scream mangled, riding out his orgasm on my hips. A palpation that, had I not already been spent, would've gotten me hard once again. I let myself finally fall back, and he followed suit, detangling his legs from around my waist and resting his full weight against my body. I could feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the blood from his back drying on my open palms, the still hot cum on our thighs, our hearts hammering against the other's chest.

Then, of course, as the afterglow began to ebb, the cold, horrific realization began to sink in. I froze, recalling all that I'd felt, wanted; every need, every desire. A sudden nausea swept though me along with the knowledge that I'd just fucked my enemy. I looked down at Malfoy. He was staring, terrified, at the hair he'd ripped from my head twined in his fingers. He brought the fist to his upper lip, clenching his eyes shut- perhaps in hopes that when he opened them, this scene wouldn't be real.

By that time, panic was beginning to set in. I shoved him off me, scrambling to get off of the desk and as far away as humanly possible. Malfoy, Draco, whatever, didn't complain - just stood there looking like he was going to be ill all over his expensive shoes.

The silence was killing me. "Did we... I mean, did we just...?"

"Shut-up, weasel." He said, voice terribly quiet. "You know what just happened, so stop blathering like an idiot."

I stared at him, trying to find the energy to slug him across the face. It wasn't there to be found. Blood was drying around his lips, he scraped it off with the back of his fist, his eyes wide and staring into empty space. There were bruises on his wrists, and his hair was a mess. I had done that. Me. I'd bit him, bled him, made him squirm with pleasure.

And I'd liked it. Oh, god.

He turned his head, slowly, and looked up at me like he'd heard me say that last bit out loud. I felt my face burn, my ears start to go red, and I looked away.

Ok, so now I was starting to get pissed. Why should I feel embarrassed, and not him! He was just as guilty as me! I opened my mouth to tell him so, because anything was better than that silence, because if I stood there any longer without saying a word, I might've actually had to think about it.

Ah, but with the sort of timing one only reads about in fiction, Filch slammed his way back into his office, looking as though he'd quite forgotten we where there. Once he'd reminded himself, he began to sift through his desk for the appropriate papers. He filled them out with the sort of glee that only Filch could seem to muster, and handed them back to us, cackling.

It all seemed painfully ordinary, like I'd just woken up from some very bizarre dream.

I wanted to believe it was a dream, wanted to deny that we'd done anything at all other than try to beat the shit out of each other. When I glanced over at Malfoy, however, and saw that his lips were still bleeding, I knew that it wasn't true.

In a daze, we shuffled out of Filch's office and back down the long corridor. We did not speak. The halls that surrounded us were also silent, as well as empty. It seemed that everyone else was at dinner. I suppose that neither one of us really felt like eating. When he turned off towards the dungeons, I hesitated.

"Er... Malfoy?"

He turned, slowly, anger and disgust twisting his face. At this, I felt annoyed. What right did he have to look at me like that?

"Look," I said, voice a coarse whisper, grabbing his upper arm and pulling him close to me. "Don't say anything about what happened, understand? Neither one of us would benefit if this got out, I expect."

He looked at me for a moment as though I were the stupidest thing alive, then he jerked his arm from my grasp and decked me right across the face.

I staggered back, thumping against a wall. "Fucking shit, what was that for!" But by the time I'd straightened myself out and tightened my fist in retaliation, Malfoy had gone.


End file.
